Harry Potter and the Final Sacrifice
by Linwe Tulcakelume
Summary: Separate, starving and scared, those who opposed Voldemort are in hiding. The war has been lost. The Dark Lord has won. Hogwarts has been destroyed. But there are those still out there, those who still fight for survival, even in the most unlikely of places. AU. No OC's.
1. Silent Night

**_Harry Potter and the Final Sacrifice_**

**_Part 1_**

**_Chapter 1: Silent Night_**

**_Word Count: 1,097_**

* * *

_Silent night, holy night,_ Hermione sung mentally, watching the snow fall around her.

_All is calm, all is bright…._

The small Muggle town was gearing up for Christmas at the end of 1998. But no matter what the song lyrics said, nothing was calm in the Wizarding World. Not since the Battle of Hogwarts had been lost, the old school being razed to the ground by those bearing the Dark Mark.

_Round yon Virgin Mother and Child, Holy Infant so tender and mild_….

Hermione pulled her coat tighter around her stomach, conscious of the fact that her lack of food had made her all skin and bone.

_Sleep in heavenly peace_, she sang in her head as she closed her eyes. _Sleep in heavenly pe-_

"Avada Kedavra!"

Hermione frowned, her eyes remaining closed. Those weren't the lyrics.

* * *

Ronald Weasley had always been one for chess. It was one of his talents, his strengths, but it didn't help him now.

No use for changing strategy when there's no going back.

After all, when you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, you're utterly doomed. Especially if that rock is the edge of a cliff and the hard place is the end of a certain wand belonging to Bellatrix Lestrange.

Ron winced as her psychopathic laugh echoed through air, her crazy hair being blown into her equally manic face.

"Come come, little Weasley, I want to tell you all about how I killed your mother..." Ron's face was quickly becoming as red as his hair, the many freckles splattering his nose quickly becoming visible.

There was nothing he could do. His wand had been taken from him, his stubble-covered chin sporting a large, fist shaped bruise.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching the white water hit against the base of the cliff with a fierce anger, before turning back to the Death Eater before him.

"No thanks," he smirked, and let himself fall backwards.

* * *

His green eyes were filled with pain while dark, uncontrollable hair fell messily over his head. Harry Potter's hands were clasped over his left shoulder, trying to stem the flow of blood originating from the wound.

When had the Death Eaters started using Muggle guns? He wasn't too sure.

But being hit with a bullet wasn't a sensation Harry ever wanted to feel again. He had no choice, however, but to soldier on and not let Voldemort find him. Contrary to popular opinion, he wasn't that reckless.

Okay, maybe he was, but he'd always relied on Hermione and Ron for the plans.

He frowned, thinking of his lost friends. He'd gone into the Forbidden Forest to face the Dark Lord, and Voldemort had never turned up. The brain rattling sound of Hogwarts exploding still haunted him.

As far as he was aware, he was the only survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts.

* * *

This was it. The chance for her to prove herself, prove she isn't a little girl who deserved to be babied. But there was no one left for Ginny to prove herself to.

The road she had chosen to take after the Battle of Hogwarts was a long one, cold and hard, filled with mourning for the friends and family she'd lost, for the rest of the Wizarding World since Harry was no longer around to save them.

She brushed her long, matted red hair away from her eyes, scanning the trees around her. The Forbidden Forest was seemingly lifeless, the centaurs long hunted to extinction.

Looking up through the trees, she saw the ruins of an old castle, still smoking from whatever spell had leveled it to the ground. Hagrid's old hut had been one if the first things set alight, and the half giant himself was one of the first to fall.

Ginny let a small smile grace her face. Hogwarts. Her second home.

* * *

Diagon Alley was crawling with Death Eaters, their swirling black cloaks flying out behind them. George Weasley hid in the remnants of Weasely Wizard Wheezes, stuffing the last few his supplies into a backpack.

Screams echoed from Knockturn Alley, and George frowned, yet he didn't stop moving. He barely paused when they were abruptly cut off.

He was used to death.

Slinging the backpack onto his back, he placed a hat on his head as his entire body disappeared under the Disillusionment charm.

* * *

The Ministry was infiltrated by You-Know-Who. It was a hard fact for Percy Weasley, the most driven of his red haired family, to get his head round.

He's always believed that the Ministry was right, that you always had to follow the correct procedures. But, as far as Percy was aware, there were no procedures for when the Ministry was infiltrated, and the third oldest Weasley child knew all the procedures.

He kept his head down as he hurried through the lobby, dark robed Snatchers watching everyone who went by, looking for half-bloods and Muggleborns alike. The only reason he'd been able to stay around was because he was pureblooded, but he knew he'd be next. Through him, they could find Ron and Ginny, and by extension, Harry. That is, if they hadn't died in the Battle of Hogwarts.

When he'd received news his mother had been killed, he'd instantly went to go comfort his father, as the rest of the Weasley family would be otherwise occupied. He even stood beside his younger brothers and his only sister as they fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. He had been the one that pulled George aside as Fred was crushed by the wall.

George had hated him for that, saving him and not his brother. He'd pushed Percy to the ground and run back inside, taking out Death Eaters, spiders and even sending a cutting curse at Snape, missing him by a hair's breath as their old Potions professor Apparated away.

And yet he was still alive, here, in the Ministry. The only people who knew he had fought were his family and those he had fought beside.

He stepped into one of the many fireplaces, Flooing into his apartments sitting room. It was close to the Ministry, and that was helpful, and close enough to the supermarkets that it was easy enough to get food and other necessities.

It was small, yet practical, which was exactly what he needed.

He neatly laid his books on his coffee table, before going in search of the caffeinated drink. He would need the drink, if he wanted to get through his meeting with a certain Lucius Malfoy in a few hours.

* * *

**I don't own Harry Potter. Please note, THIS IS AU, and Harry is NOT a Horcrux. I do love reviews, and they're also very useful if you wish to ask a question. Also, suggest a few pairings or I'll stick to canon. A word of warning, other characters will be introduced as still alive in the next few chapters, so mention a few you want to see. Also, thanks to my amazing beta, DiAnna44! We persevere through time zones! **


	2. Survivors

**_Harry Potter and the Final Sacrifice_**

**_Part 1_**

**_Chapter 2: Survivors_**

**_Word Count: 766_**

* * *

He kicked a stone down the driveway of Malfoy Manor, shoulders hunched as he thought.

This was never what he wanted. Before, he had wanted to grow up, have a high working job in the Ministry, surpass Potter, Weasel, Granger, and anyone else who thought of themselves as better than he was.

What could Draco say? It was his Slytherin ambition.

He'd grown up, though, _that_ was undeniable.

Draco fiddled with the cuff of his long-sleeved black shirt, remembering all the times he'd thwarted Potter, and the times the Gryffindork had had the sheer dumb luck to win.

He wanted the old days back, when all he had to worry about was his marks, bringing pride and respect to the Malfoy name, and besting the Boy Who Lived. Glancing back at the Manor when his Dark Mark started to burn, he sighed, and moved towards the two large doors.

* * *

Harry Potter was still alive. If Voldemort knew nothing else, it was that. He still felt the boy's hopeless emotions, emotions that led to his downfall.

The monster remained expressionless, watching as Draco Malfoy entered the room.

"Ah, Draco, how nice to see you."

"My Lord," the boy bowed, avoiding eye contact. Voldemort frowned. That wouldn't do.

"Come now, Draco, why don't you look into my eyes?" Draco stiffened, but looked up all the same, grey meeting crimson. He barely winced, allowing the Dark Lord to penetrate his mind mercilessly.

Voldemort smiled slightly, seeing nothing out of the ordinary as he flicked through thoughts and emotions, memories and dreams.

"May I ask why you called me here, my Lord?" Draco asked, keeping his head down.

"Of course. Bellatrix wanted to do this, but I can't trust her not to kill the boy," Voldemort sighed theatrically, gliding towards the Malfoy heir and resting a pale, bony hand on the boys shoulder. "We have a prisoner in dungeon 7, and we need the information he holds. Torture him."

"Of course, my Lord," Draco bowed stiffly, leaving the room towards the dungeons.

* * *

Ron decided, even as he fell, that he was never jumping off a cliff again. Sure, he liked the shock of adrenaline that raced through him for one moment, but he hated the horror that followed at the realization of what he had just done.

He hit the cold, raging white water, the stinging on his back from the contact lessening as he was dragged underwater. His vision was clouded with bubbles as he thrashed grabbing onto a rock as the base of the cliff and pulling himself up, choking on the salty water he had accidentally swallowed.

Hands rested on his shoulders, and the ginger found himself on his back with a wand in his face.

"Which Weasley twin pranked you with green hair when you were ten?" Came a voice, supposedly from behind the wand.

"Fred," Ron blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision. "Fred?"

"Yeah, Ronniekins, it's me."

* * *

Draco cast a simple Disillusionment charm on himself before entering dungeon number 7. He opened door silently, closed it behind him, and then readied his wand.

One silent Stupefy later, and the unnamed Death Eater who had been guarding the prisoner fell to the ground unconscious. Draco sneered, stepping over his victim's body, and unchaining the prisoner.

"Take two left's, then a right, and you'll be out the front door. Run till just outside the gates then Apparate away. Stupefy me as well," Draco changed his voice a few octave lower, handing the prisoner the unconscious Death Eaters wand.

"Why are you helping me?" The prisoner asked, gripping the wand like the lifeline or was.

"Just go. Or is that too difficult on itself, Longbottom?" Malfoy sneered, removing the Disillusionment charm. Neville nodded, aimed his wand at the Slytherin, before a bolt of red light smothered Draco's vision.

* * *

St. Mungos was practically silent on Christmas Eve, the only sound being the occasional cough, and the beeping of the heartbeat monitoring spells.

Healer Poppy Pomfrey, formerly Madam Pomfrey of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, bustled through the infirmaries, checking on victims of the Cruciatus Curse, injured Death Eaters and even a few rebels that You-Know-Who wanted kept alive.

Satisfied with her work, Poppy entered the supply closest, pushing the rhubarb root down, followed by the belladonna leaves and the cherry blossoms.

The shelf slid sideways, leaving Poppy to slip down into the gloom. Following the winding passageways, the healer entered into a large cavern filled with patients.

And do you know what really filled Poppy's heart? Helping the rebellion, as their underground healer. Literally, underground.

**_Merry Christmas! In case you haven't noticed, I'm updating every fortnight on a Wednesday GMT, and hopefully the chapters will get longer than this. Thank you for the reviews, I don't own Harry Potter and even mire thanks to me beta, _DiAnna44_!_**


	3. Constant Vigilance

**_Harry Potter and the Final Sacrifice_**

**_Part 1_**

**_Chapter 3: Constant Vigilance_**

**_Word Count: 1,353_**

* * *

Neville cursed the stomping of his footsteps as he crashed through the undergrowth, ducking and diving to avoid the Death Eaters' attacks.

Suddenly, a well-aimed stinging hex in his leg caused him to fall, tumbling down the muddy hill towards the bright Muggle village. A gust of cold, icy wind sent shivers down his spine, as the last member of the Longbottom family continued running.

The sounds of carols reached his ears, reminding Neville of the days when he and his Gran would sing carols in town, before he started Hogwarts.

It was strange, in Neville's opinion, that he didn't want to cry when he thought of her anymore.

_At least her death was quick, a simple-_

"Avada Kedavra!"

Neville mentally swore, barely getting out of the path of the Killing Curse. He rolled into the trees beside him, hoping that the trunks would help hide him.

Unfortunately, the downside of moving through trees in the dark is that you're going to run into one.

"Ouch!" Neville bounced backwards, landing painfully on his back, head slamming into tree roots, while trying to stem the flow of blood from his broken nose.

"Umph!" Came a gasp. Neville shot up. He knew that voice.

What he had at first thought were tree roots was in fact the bony and uncomfortable thighs of Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Neville hissed, trying to pull the girl to her feet, "I though you were dead!" Hermione just groaned, unable to support her own weight.

"Come on, we need to get out of here!" He ducked, narrowly avoiding a nasty hex, tugging on her arm. He sighed. She would be light enough.

Swinging the bushy haired girl onto his back, he took off through the shadows. He may not be a healer, but he knew the witch needed food, and possibly a hypothermia potion.

* * *

The only Weasley daughter dragged herself through the ruins of her school, trying to avoid the occasional random bursts of toxic smoke.

Ginny looked around herself, looking for the approximate position of where the Great Hall had once stood. Picking her way across the rubble, Ginny mentally plotted out the corridors and classrooms that had been her home for 6 years.

The ceiling of the Great Hall had collapsed, the spell that changed with the weather, now showed the decaying grass beneath. If they won the war, Ginny knew Hermione (if she was still alive) would spend most of her free time on working out the spell, and recasting it on the new Hogwarts.

_No! Not if,_ Ginny reminded herself, _When. We will win this war._

Reaching the middle of the area, the red headed girl knelt, tapping the ground in a pattern the her mother had taught her before her death. The trapdoor swung open, leaving Ginny to stare into the gloom that was the Tunnels.

"Lumos," she whispered, sticking her wand into the darkness, before hopping down and pulling the door closed before her.

The Tunnels had been created by the Order in the first Wizarding War, allowing the rebels to gain easy access to and from important places of defense, such as Hogwarts and the Ministry. Of course, a few of them had caved in, or had been forgotten about, but that was inevitable.

Pulling a crumbled piece of paper out of her pocket, Ginny held her wand close enough to read the directions. Some of the names of the places caught Ginny's attention, including Longbottom Mansion, Diagon Alley, and St. Mungos, but it was the last of the three that Ginny really wanted to go to.

Turning left, she started her trek to London.

* * *

George Weasley crept through the shadows of Diagon Alley. He would has Disapparated, but the wards placed around key points of Wizarding Britain only allowed those tattooed with the Dark Mark the easy mode of travelling.

He slid, Disillusionment hat still on his head, into the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the hunchbacked owner of the inn, stood behind the bar, quickly making more glasses of firewhiskey for the loud, drunk Death Eaters.

George easily tailed one of the dark cloaked figures out into Muggle London, Transfigured his robes into something the Muggles would recognize once he reached an alley, before stepping onto the street. His Weasley red hair was a beacon compared to the mix of blondes, brunettes, dull red, black and neon hair he was surrounded with.

The Second Wizarding War, affectionately named 2WW by George as a play on the Muggles WW2, was so large even the Muggles knew something was going on. The multiple killings as well as the Dark Marks in the sky, well, even Muggles weren't that stupid.

Walking down a smaller side street, George paused, looking around as figures with dark cloaks and silver masks slipped out of the shadows.

"Ah, gentlemen, what a pleasant surprise," the Weasley twin reached into his pocket with his left hand as his wand slipped out if his sleeve into his right.

"We're not here for chit-chat, Weasley," one if them spat. George glanced at the shoulder length blond hair, recognizing Lucius Malfoy beneath the mask.

"Good, then you won't mind if I take my leave?" The red head crushed the Peruvian Instant Darkness powder he had retrieved from his pocket in his hand, smothering the area in blackness.

With that, George Weasley Apparated away.

* * *

Professor Pomona Sprout looked up from the cave entrance, where she and the group she was with were hiding out in. It was rather cold, with the occasional flood in some of the deeper caves, but it was perfect for hiding from You-Know-Who and his followers.

What had caused the ex-head of Hufflepuff to look up was the two red headed figured being dragged in from the cold outside air.

"What was the first prank Fred Weasley ever played on me?" She asked, pointing her wand at the mentioned Weasley twin.

"I made one of the mandrakes explode in Gryffindor colored glitter," he muttered, before asking Pomona a question. You could never be too careful in war, after all.

"And who's this?" Sprout gasped, spying the unconscious face of Ronald Weasley. "I thought he was dead."

"So did I," Fred smiled slightly. "Get the others. Do you know where they are?"

"Luna is with Filius in one of the back caves, and Colin Creevey is teaching his brother how to use his camera." Fred nodded, as Pomona bustled off.

_How many more?_ She thought to herself. _How many more were alive?_

* * *

"Hey Perce," Percy Weasley whipped his wand out of its holster and pointed it at the intruder.

"George," he sighed, relaxing at the sight if his little brother. "What were your OWL results?" George shrugged, answering nonchalantly. Percy nodded, setting the kettle on the boil with a wave of his wand.

"Why are you here? If you're caught, we're both dead." The elder ginger watched as the younger shuffled his feet.

"The Death Eaters followed me to Muggle London. I have to assume they know where my flat is," Percy nodded, poring two cups of tea before sitting back down.

"Dad wants to see you again you know," George started. Percy sighed, staring into the dark liquid held within his mug.

"The only thing keeping me alive and in the Ministry is that they think I have no ties with you," Percy shook his head, frowning at his brother.

"Come on. You, dad and me are the only ones left of the Weasley clan."

Percy winced, face falling into shadow as George looked up with hopeful eyes. "Don't mention that again. Have you conveniently forgotten I saved you and not Fred?"

George scowled at the mention of his twin. "We're family. And in this time... that's rare. I used to have five brothers and a sister. Now, I'm stuck with Perfect Prefect Percy."

Aforementioned Perfect Prefect smiled in remembrance. "Those were the days," he whispered.

"Those will be the days. That's what we're still fighting for. Constant vigilance and all that."

"Constant vigilance," Percy nodded, clinking his mug with his brother.

* * *

**Sorry I'm late, I had some family and school issues to deal with. Thank you to all the reviews, follows, favourites and views, and to my beta reader _DiAnna44_ :)**


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